


Nancy on Ice

by tamerofdarkstars



Series: trope_bingo fills: round 4 [5]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Team as Family, Trope Bingo Round 4, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3411788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamerofdarkstars/pseuds/tamerofdarkstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Parker steals, Sophie takes an ill-timed trip to England, no one can reach Tara, and Eliot has really pretty hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nancy on Ice

It was only going to be for a few days, something about some old friend and a wedding she couldn’t miss, but Sophie had sailed out of Nate’s apartment with a kiss and a wave and a promise to return and, well, they’d learned the last time that Sophie had disappeared how well _certain_ members of their team took her absence.

Nate managed to mope around for three days before a con fell in their laps.

“And thank _God_.” Hardison pointed across the room at Eliot with his soda. “I was ‘bout to lose my mind in here with Mopey McMoperson over there.” He gestured at Nate.

“Hey.” Nate glowered at him.  “Can we cool it with the names? I’m not moping.”

Parker snorted from her place on the sofa. She had thrown herself down against the cushions, kicking her legs up over Eliot’s lap. “Sophie said you might. She said to keep an eye on you ‘cause ‘you know what kind of a grumpy little thing he can be, _Pah_ -kuh.’.” Parker put on a purposefully fake British accent and Nate paused, clearly losing his train of thought.

“She called me gru— never mind.” He shook his head and Hardison and Eliot exchanged a smirk. “We got a job, and we’re gonna have to run it, you know, without Sophie. But that’s ok. We can do this.”

“Try a little more confidence, Nate.” Hardison pushed himself up off the sofa with a lazy grin. “Guy might almost feel like you don’t believe in us.”

“Of course I—”

“He’s teasin’, Nate.” Eliot drawled. “Get on with it.”

Nate opened his mouth and then shut it again. “Right.”

Parker leaned over to Eliot. “He really misses Sophie, doesn’t he?” She whispered, loudly, and Nate twitched.

“Okaaaay.” Hardison waved at them with his remote. “Focus, gang, fo-cus. Eyes on me.” He pressed a button and the screen bloomed with dossiers.

Toby Tate was a scumbag to the highest degree. He’d clawed his way to a powerful position ten years ago, stepping on fingers and burning bridges until no one dared oppose him. No one until Marcus Figgs – father, husband, brother, friend – filed a wrongful termination lawsuit and ended up six feet under for his trouble.

Nate leaned back in the chair, examining the screen. Tate’s vices were the same as many other men of America – women, money, booze. It took a second this time, but eventually there it was – the slow grin, the steepled fingers. The con.

“Nancy on Ice.”

“Oo!” Parker perked up. “Does that make me Nancy? I’ve never gotten to be Nancy before. Wait. Shouldn’t Sophie be Nancy? Sophie’s not here, Nate.”

“Nah, girl, you can’t be Nancy! You gotta be the Ice part.” Hardison frowned and Eliot picked up the rest of his thought as easy as breathing.

“Nate, how we gonna pull off a Nancy on Ice?” Eliot tapped Parker’s ankles with the flat of his hand. “We need two women at least to pull that off and, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re one woman short.”

But Nate was shaking his head, grinning widely, and after a second, Hardison began to laugh.

Eliot’s face went from confused to alarmed to horrified in seconds. “No way, man.” He shoved Parker’s feet off his lap and stood up, pointing between Hardison and Nate, who were both grinning. “I do a lot for you guys but I’m not doin’ that!”

Nate held up two hands. “Hey, now, Eliot, you know, it’s not my fault Sophie picked now to trek off to England.”

“I am _not_ being the Nancy!”

Parker burst out laughing, clapping her hands delightedly.

“We need Hardison behind the scenes and like he said, Parker’s gotta be the Ice.” Nate clapped his hands together.

“Ice ice, baby.” Hardison fist-bumped Parker, who beamed.

“Why can’t you do it!?” Eliot protested and Nate made a face, shaking his head.

“Nah, I couldn’t possibly. My legs aren’t made for dresses.”

There was a beat of dead silence.

“ _Dresses!?_ ”

-

“You know, Eliot,” Parker glanced at her watch, counting the seconds. “I’m glad you’re doing the Nancy part of the con. You have such pretty hair.”

_“Parker, I’m gonna give you five seconds to shut the hell up.”_

“I’m just saying! Geez, take a compliment.”

_“She’s right, El, your hair is simply divine. However do you manage to keep it up?”_

_“Hardison, I’m gonna strangle you with your own cables.”_

“ _Yeesh, touchy, ain’t he, Parker?”_

“I know!” Parker peered through the grate as the second round of security detail walked through, right on schedule. “You’d think he’d be more excited. He gets to try out a new role! And the blue matches his eyes.”

 _“Guys, guys, focus_.” Nate’s voice was muffled, like he was mumbling into his hand. Probably still with Tate, then. “ _I don’t wanna miss Nancy’s arrival_.”

 _“I hate all of you._ ”

“Love you too!” Parker and Hardison chorused, voices twin measures of glee. Parker dropped through the grate into the hallway, dangling by her fingertips as she watched the security round the corner.

“Ice ice, baby.” She chanted, bopping her head to the beat.

Oh, she was the Ice alright. And they were about to steal a whoooooole lot of Ice. Like, wowzers.

-

Twenty-seven minutes, thirteen seconds, a tray of scallops and a groping hand later, and Parker and Eliot were racing through the basement, hired guns feet behind them and their cargo tucked away in Parker’s vest pocket.

Eliot’s hair was coming out of the lovely up-do Parker had worked so hard on hours before and as he glanced over his shoulder, one hand firmly on the small of her back to keep her running, she noticed his eyeliner was smudged around his eyes.

“Your makeup’s all messed up!” She whined, and Eliot shot her an incredulous look.

“You’re worried about my _makeup_!?” He demanded and she shrugged.

“We worked hard on that!”

“No, no. Me. I worked hard on that. You and Hardison made me look like a raccoon!”

“You were a pretty raccoon!”

“Damn it, Parker!”

And huh, that was a new one. Usually it was _damn it, Hardison_ or, once, _damn it, Sophie_. But that had just happened the once.

_“No, no, not that way! Turn the other way, damn—”_

But Hardison’s warning came a split second too late and there they were, facing a dead end with five guys cornering them.

Parker spun around, eyes flicking everywhere for their escape but Eliot was stepping forward. He’d ditched his heels somewhere and Parker frowned. Sophie had liked those heels.

“Now, boys.” Eliot growled, voice thick as gravel. “We can do this the easy way. Or…” He paused, tilting his head, and reached up to let down his hair. “Actually, I think I like the easy way.”

The goons blinked, and Eliot launched himself forward, catching two guys with the flats of his forearms. Parker whooped as Eliot spun, jewelry flashing in the washed-out basement fluorescents, and got a leg up behind the third guy’s knees.

It was over in seconds, and Eliot stepped back, flicking his stray hair out of his eyes.

“Ha!” Parker stepped up next to Eliot, putting her tough face on. Eliot gave her a look.

“Don’t make that face. You look like a puppy.”

Parker considered this. “A cute puppy?”

Eliot sighed, shaking his head and stepped over the fourth guy’s unconscious body to pick up his gun, taking it apart swiftly and tossing it onto their bodies. “Let’s go.”

-

There were many things Sophie was expecting when she snuck into Nate’s apartment in the early hours of Thursday morning, but her team – her family – piled together, asleep in the living room, was not one of them.

She smiled, gently clicking the door shut behind her and putting her suitcase down. Nate was passed out in the arm chair, snoring softly with his feet on the coffee table. Hardison was sprawled on his back, long legs stretched out the length of the sofa, mouth open, laptop inches from his fingers, Parker tucked into his side, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

A clatter from the kitchen drew her attention and Sophie turned to find Eliot coming towards her, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top that fit tight across his chest. He held out a glass of iced tea, which she accepted gratefully.

“Long day?” She whispered and Eliot shrugged.

“Not bad, considering.”

Sophie frowned. “Are you wearing makeup?”

Eliot blanched. “Look, don’t ask, ok.”

“Is… is that my favorite blue dress over there just tossed all willy-nilly onto the dining room table!?”

Eliot scowled, stalking across the room and grabbing it, bunching it into a ball. “I said don’t ask!”

“Did you _wear_ that!?”

“Look, I’ll get you a new one!”

“Elioooot, you’ve probably stretched it all out! Your chest is so much wider than mine!”

“Soph, shut up!”

There was a rustle from the living room and Parker’s head, hair mussed all around her face in wild, static-electrified strands, popped up from behind the sofa. “Oo, are we talking about Eliot in the dress? He’s got such pretty hair, Sophie.”

“Oh, he definitely wore it. Kicked some bad guy booty in it too.” Hardison’s voice was rough with sleep and his hand appeared over the sofa, waving vacantly. “It was pretty awesome.”

“You hit bad guys in my favorite dress!?” Sophie looked murderous, and with a groan, Nate pushed himself up off the armchair and crossed to her, plucking the balled up dress out of Eliot’s hands.

“We’ll get you a new one.” Then he grinned, suddenly and wickedly. “Won’t we, Nancy?”

Eliot groaned and Hardison and Parker burst out laughing. And suddenly, Sophie couldn’t really find it in herself to be _that_ angry, even though Eliot had no doubt stretched out a very expensive dress beyond repair.

After all, what was a little bit of wardrobe sharing between family?

**Author's Note:**

> I set out to write a crossdressing fic that wasn't crack and didn't end in smut and, well, here we are. The actual details of a Nancy on Ice are best left to the imagination. 
> 
> For Volee.  
> -  
> Fills my crossdressing square on my trope bingo card


End file.
